


Wine stains on silk sheets (on HIATUS)

by Novel_Zombie



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fellswap Gold (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Mafiafell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Swapfell Dawn (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Can't tell ya much without giving it away, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, No Beta, Other, Things will get messy, Totally need a beta reader, but for now we go down like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novel_Zombie/pseuds/Novel_Zombie
Summary: What happens when the ones in charge of keeping the scales of the universe balanced have been placed in endless loops to the point that their 'unyielding' justice crumbles with their mental state?What happens when the ones in charge of balancing the scales tamper with them in their desperation?What will the universe do to keep the balance?(Note in Hiatus on chapter 10)
Relationships: I am gonna leave it here for now, Papyrus (FellSwap GOLD)/ OC, Papyrus (Undertale)/Original Female Character(s), Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (FellSwap GOLD)/ OC, Sans (Undertale)/Original Character(s), Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 63
Kudos: 47





	1. Fuck

Now, Sans, or Wine as his alternate ‘selves’ (if you could even call their pathetic excuse of an existence a sliver of his magnificent malevolence) dubbed him after much confusion, had been top side in this dimension for an estimated 3 years, 5 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, 2 hours, 27 minutes, 39 seconds, and counting. He had run this same path for 3 years,4 months, 1 week, and 2 days, at the same time (see 4 am) every day, snow, rain, or sleet, yet had never encountered another living being. That is, until now.

  
On the part of his running path that lead through the local park , on a park bench not far from the circle of light that was cast by an ornate lamp, arms draped over the back, head tipped up to gaze at the sky above, sat a woman in blue jeans, scuffed work boots, a black, red, and purple patterned plaid button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and all over her covered in a fine layer of soot and dirt that came with dirty manual labor jobs, indicating to him one of two things. Either she worked hard for a living and hadn’t bathed the night before (the mere thought sent shivers of disgust run through him), or she had recently left a ‘graveyard shift' at a local factory.

  
As Wine assessed her and weighed weather or not he should take another route or simply continue his run past the woman she was thinking about the fight she had gotten into with her coworker that got her written up and sent home for the first time in her work career of 14 years, not including under the table work she did as a teen and a kid! It was the dumbest thing too!! She had let her temper get the better of her instead of keeping a level head. The prick had been baiting her for months, egging her on and she knew it! But this ass hat did not like the idea that she was becoming a shift Forman and had it out for her ever since she was rumored to be in line for the position. After all, she was ‘just a stupid woman, what the hell did she know?’. His words, not hers when he found out he was not the one they were going to be promoting.

  
She could handle that, she could handle shit talk aimed her way, no problem. What caused her to lose her temper and slam the punk ass bitch into the control booth of the factory on the main floor where everyone could see, was him joking about how Monsters turned to dust when they died. Oh, but that wasn’t it, oh no. It was how he found out. Turns out that he found out because he had pushed a whimsy out of his way when he was mad and it turned to “sparkly fucking farie dust, ha-ha! Like God damn glitter! I’m telling ya’!”

  
She had been walking past him and his chuckling buddy when she heard it and she lost it. He thought it was funny to kill someone, even on accident, and funnier still to mock their senseless death! Luckily, her boss caught her before her fist meet the punks face. So that keep her from having a full battery assault charge but that didn’t stop her from being written up and sent home on a 2 week probation. She did not have enough saved up for two weeks without work! She growled, tossed out a frustrated “fuck" for good measure as she berried her head into her hands, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

  
“LANGUAGE!” snapped a deep, yet crisp voice to her left, causing her to snap her head in the direction of the speaker, her auburn ponytail whipping around to follow. Wine stiffened; arms falling behind him to clasp one another in his typical ‘at ease’ stance as green eyes glinted at him from the dark as he realized just how inadequate his current attire would be at protection if this seemingly aggravated human were to turn their frustration onto him. For a brief moment he cursed that this world had caused him to grow circumspect, and there by foolhardier, risking his safety. Still he held his head high, looking down his naisle ridge at them for their foul language and clear lack of manners and common curtesy for those around them.

  
She took in his red light that set forth a soft but firm glow in the otherwise vacant right socket where someone’s eye would be, noting briefly the calcified scaring and slight cracking around his left eye with its lack of light. Bone instead of flesh was molded into a mature face that still seamed to hold a ‘baby face’ appeal to it’s shape. Giving the impression that the monster looking back at her was (if her assessment was correct) nestled quite nicely in the prime of his life, not young, yet not old. Teeth that fit together like a sharpened zipper gave of the impression of boredom as they were set on an unamused line.

  
He was dressed in a black hoodie with deep red accents about the strings, hood, sleeves, and a brazen gold delta rune above where his soul would rest on his chest. His jogging sweatpants were much the same way accept the slight reflective qualities the red striped down the side had. The same golden delta rune brazened onto the right hip. The ensemble was toped off with simple white and black running shoes.

  
By the looks of him he was out for an ass-o-clock-in-the-morning jog, not that she could blame him. People sucked; it was why she preferred the night shift. Less people to deal with. But his stance and mannerisms reminded her of her parents and her brother, all of which where in varying branches of military. As the thought of his comment and his possible military affiliation connected she could not help but laugh.

  
Sockets narrowed as the woman before him began to laugh. Bloody hell, what was the human laughing at? Though, it was not a bad laugh. On the contrary, it was open and bright with merriment at a joke clearly only she understood, as she stood up from the bench she was sat upon. It stunned Wine a bit, as her bells of laughter settled and her pools of green meet his red light, to observe that she was as open as a book, and as easy to read as one with large clear text.

  
So clear and un muddled was her intent, her feelings, it struck him that he felt he didn’t even need to look at her soul to know that what she was showing was exactly what her soul would display as well. It was as if she had never learned to be guarded. Like a naive child, yet judging by her face, though sweet in shape, and clear in complexion despite the splattering of freckles, and the curves of her body she was most definitely not….

  
“Ahh, beg your pardon, ‘Captain” she said with a bit of a snicker in her voice, winking at him as she addressed him by his tittle (though he was perplexed how she knew he was a captain when he wasn’t one here), before she seamed to break into a fit of giggles once more, laying a rather lady like and airy hand over her mouth in her little fit of humor. Even in the dull light her cheeks flushed with her merriment as she tried to quell her laughter. “I meant no disrespect. I wasn’t aware anyone was around this early in the morn’, sir.”

  
Wine caught himself straightening, clearing his nonexistent throat, before giving a curt nod in her direction. “Very well, human. Though I understand feeling like one is alone at this hour,” Oh~ho~ho he was a damn hypocrite, “one must remember you are indeed in a public park and such language is unbecoming a young lady such as yourself.” Such a fucking hypocrite….

  
“ha ha...l-lady? Ha-ha-ha” she started as the laughter erupted once more, fanning herself with one hand and holding her belly with the other, muttering the word ‘lady’ as if it was the funniest thing in the world. “Who-buddy. I don’t know whose basement you have been hiding out in, Captain, but I sure as hell ain’t no damn lady. Ha-ha if anything, ha, I’m a sailor who had an anchor chain hit me and caused my extra leg to fall off and my balls to moved north.” At the look of absolute horror and disgust she lost it one more time, only this time she doubled over slightly in laughter, wheezing slightly.

  
“Human! That was vulgar and unnecessary!” he chided hotly, still look aghast at the human female as she whipped tears of mirth from her eyes. Yet further rebuttal to her statement withered and died as he realized she had closed off. Sure, her eyes glinted with mirth, but they were no linger open. Despite her laxed stance and easy grin he knew she had gone from viewing him as a companion of sorts to a threat. Her body language reminded him all to much of his more slovenly counterparts when they were uncomfortable or felt threatened. But what could have caused such a drastic change?

  
“Ah, sorry Captain Language, it sea-ms my mouth row-d away with me.” She joked lightly, cocking her hips slightly so that one leg was bent at the knee. To anyone else she would have looked relaxed, easy going, if you will, with her hands moving to hook her thumbs in her belt loops. But Wine knew better. Her stance had widened, becoming ready for 2 possible outcomes. To fight, or the flee. An while he admired how smoothly she shifted into this guarded state, it was easily read by someone who could see her soul and had years of experience getting their way without having to dirty their hands unnecessarily.

  
“Whelp, Cap’n, it’s awfully early, and ‘young lady’s", ahhh, so that was where the problem lied. She held so much thinly veiled distaste for the two words he had used to describe her it was a miracle acid didn’t spill from her mouth as she spoke them, “ such as myself should be heading home. Enjoy the rest of your jog ,sir.” She finished, backing away from him until she deemed him far enough away to no longer be a thread (a poor judgment call on her part as he was always a threat), before turning with a wave and heading off into the darkness of the park.

  
To say she was perplexing was to put it simply. In the beginning. Despite her dress and obvious profession, she had come across as naïve, and dare he say it, demure. But the moment he had brought attention to her gender she had shifted. If he were to compare it to anything, he would say it was much like a threatened male peacock, fluffing up their feathers to appear bigger and tougher than they where. Only she took on a more masculine role, her shoulders had squared, her chin raised in a rather smug way…all of her soft curves had tried to turned to hard edges.

  
What would cause a human female in her prime to reject her very nature? To reject the very soul that sat in her chest? Particularly in such a ‘fluffy' world as this one? That was a question that would rattle around his skull for the rest of his run without an answer. Nor would it seem he would ever get one. After all. It isn’t as if he would ever come across her again.

  
Besides, he had more important things to worry about than a puzzle of a woman. Today him and his brother were finally allowed to move from that ‘cabin’(hah! It was a manor house designed to look like a damn cabin, they weren’t fooling anyone) in the mountains, that only grew more crowded with every failed attempt to set things right, into an apartment of their own and he wasn’t about to waste precious energy trying to puzzle out some random human female when he should be thinking about the logistics of their move.


	2. Dollar store porn

Once again Oriana flipped over in her bed, tangling herself up further in her bed sheets, leaving her comforter to lay in a heap on the floor. A loud voice could be heard from next door, barely muffled by the walls of the apartment complex. Sure, it was muffled enough she couldn’t understand what the speaker was saying, but seriously!! An yah…it was the middle of the day but fuck all man!! Some people were trying to sleep for work!! Not that she had work for the next 2 weeks but that was besides the point! She was fucking tired!

In fact, if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to cry. All she wanted after that award encounter with that skeleton monster, who she will forever reefer to him as Captain Language, was to come home and sleep but apparently the universe or whatever, decided some inconsiderate ass decorations would move in right next to her and were letting the neighboring area code know they were there.

Did she have enough money to put a hit out on these clowns? No? ….no….she barely had enough to make it until her next paycheck in….She felt her soul try to leave her body through her mouth as it accrued to her she would have to wait an additional 3 weeks after she went back to work again to start receiving pay checks once more because of where her pay periods were.

Rolling over to shove her face into her pillow she screamed as loud as she could as she threw a rather child like temper tantrum over the realization. An while it helped a little she still felt infuriated.

There came a loud bang, some clattering accompanied by some yelling by multiple parties. Louder now, yet still jumbled and she still couldn’t discern what they were saying despite feeling like she was in the same room with them. Their bickering only soured her mood further. After a moment one of her downstairs neighbors banged on the celling and the frat house next door quitted down. Leaving her once again to her thoughts.

What was she gonna do? Sure. She could pay rent and other bills this month on this check but what was she gonna do about food? Sure. She had enough food stocked up she would last about 2 weeks, but a month plus? Not likely. An while ramen was an option, she couldn’t survive off ramen for almost 2 months. She had tried while she was in college and had wound up in the hospital due to poor nutrition. She supposed she could stop by an emergency food bank and see if they had some stuff….even if she hated the idea it was better that her body giving out because she wasn’t eating properly.

She would call her land lord and give them a heads up that rent next month would be late, so that wasn’t a big deal. And her utilities were bundled with rent so that wasn’t a problem and she had paid her phone bill in advance with last years tax return so really, she was stressed over nothing.

With a begrudging sigh, she settled into her bed once more. Thankful that the new neighbors had quieted down. She could finally sleep…

BAMB!!!

She damn near fell off her bed at the abrupt and far to close sound. Shortly after there was another loud bang, accompanied by a solid ‘thump' of what might be a body hitting her bedroom wall. Again, the yelling!!!! She was gonna kill them!!!!! Before she could think better of it she sat up, chucked her pillow at the wall with an unsatisfactory ‘thwumph' sound, and a more satisfying “Film your dollar store porn somewhere else, you poor excuse for sphincter decorations!!! Stars above!! Some of us are trying to sleep for work, so nock it some where else!!!!", she fumed loudly before she lamely slumped forward, leaving her ass in the air as one arm dangled over the edge of her bed. Her loss hair falling over and around her haphazardly and her dog having left her to her temper tantrum to get a drink from the water dish in the kitchen.

Silence, blissed silence.

Ok, if they were going to be quiet then she wasn’t going to kill them…yet…

She gave a sleepy triumphant smile and allowed her eyes to fall shut, thinking all was finally right with the world. Welp, that is until booming laughter, deep and rich in tone and sexy as fuuuuuuuuck was heard right next to her wall as small smacks reverberated softly. Whoever had been so closely acquainted with her wall had clearly found her sleep depraved insults hysterical. Part of her was pissed, firstly because those insults were top notch!!! Secondly because she was almost asleep again and Mr. sexy laugh McFuckme woke her back up, in more ways than one. The other part of her wondered if she should let her considerably neglected libido motivate her to get dressed in decent cloths and go say ‘hi' to this hopefully single neighbor….

She shifted her bear leg and remembered she didn’t’ have pant on…or a bra… and she would have to brush her hair….who even knew if this dude would be single? Hell, with a laugh like that she could only imagine his voice… yaaaaah, he probably wasn’t single. She wasn’t goanna put pants on for wishful thinking. But, that wouldn’t stop her from fantasizing a bit as she tried yet again to fall asleep...

“ ** _WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING AT YOU LAZY PEACE OF TRASH_** ** _?!”_**

Oh, hell no! She was up and standing in front of her bedroom wall with a glare that could melt steel. Her left hand resting against it gently as the other smacked against it with a flat palm, hard enough she felt it through the floor.

**_ “Now listen here you loud obnoxious megaphone with a waked out speaker! I don’t know who you think died and gave you the right to go treating people like that just because they were laughing but you can cram it right up your coccyx!! No one, I repeat, No Fucking Body deserves to be talked to like that because they were having an honest good time and if I have to call the police on myself after I beat the fuck out of you, to get you to understand that then so fucking be it! Do you understand?” _ **

Now, on the other side of the wall, Sans, or rather Red, from what the vanilla bastard dubbed ‘Underfell' had been having a good old laugh at the fuckin' next door neighbors outrage over their loud ass blunders. It was particularly funny because he had wound up tripping over his laces and landing nasal ridge first against the wall after his not so little bro, Papyrus (AKA Boss/Edge) had busted into the door, finding him sleeping on the job only for him to send a wave of defensive attacks out in his shock and tripping up Edge as he and the boxes he was carrying came crashing to the floor. The yelling started, as did his apologies as he moved quicker than he was accustomed to right after waking up. Particularly in this cream filled world of rainbows and unicorn farts, where people did not have to worry about shit.

The end results? Well, he was laughing so hard he rattled as he tried to pull himself away from the wall, but it seems his little bro didn’t catch the muffled response of the, most likely, human on the other side of the wall. He could feel the glare as he tried to regain his composure. Sure, his little bro and him had ‘improved’ a lot over the 3 some odd years they had been in the universe but that didn’t mean his little bro didn’t sometimes fall back into old, cruel habits of verbally degrading someone to fluff up his own wounded ego/image. An it seems now would be one of those times as Red felt the prickle of Magic hit his senses, he abruptly stopped laughing, turning slightly to see his brother, dusting off his deep Maroon button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, looming tall and menacing near the door with his black slacks, and black wind tipped shoes, already narrowed sockets narrowed further as red pinpricks stared at Red with a laser focus.

“ ** _WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING AT YOU LAZY PEACE OF TRASH”_**

Drops that range true to the color of his new name beaded the back of Reds skull, skeletal phalanges moved to settle into the pockets of his black hooded jacket. His smile turned tight as his eyes began to shift about uncomfortably, shoulders hunching up, causing the yellowish fur that lined the hood of his jacket to roll and puff up, much like a frightened animal trying to make themselves look larger so the larger animal would think twice about attacking.

His mind worked fast, debating the best way to answer that would not trigger his little bro further. After all, the only reason they were allowed out of that damn manor house right now, despite being on ‘behavioral probation’ (fucking vanilla basterd), was because they were helping the tinny dictator, Wine and his brother ‘Little Pup’ move into their new Apartment as a test of their self-control around humans. Wine was currently in charge of keeping the two of them ‘under control’. Huh, like the little punk could do shit to them!

Yet being baby sat by Wine was Not what Red was concerned about right now. If his brother completely lost his temper, they would be stuck in the Asgor forsaken House with the other fucking weirdo freak versions of himself for Stars only knows how long, with more damn ‘rehab’ and ‘counselling’ sessions, Fuck! He couldn’t handle that shit much longer, and he would be damned if his little bro fucked it up for the both of them!

BAMB!!!

The sound caused him to jump a bit and turn with extinguished eyesight’s to the possible threat on the other side of the wall, ready for an attack.

**_ “Now listen here you loud obnoxious megaphone with a waked out speaker! I don’t know who you think died and gave you the right to go treating people like that just because they were laughing but you can cram it right up your coccyx!! No one, I repeat, No Fucking Body deserves to be talked to like that because they were having an honest good time and if I have to call the police on myself after I beat the fuck out of you to understand that then so fucking be it? Do you understand?” _ **

The feminine voice that was suddenly crystal clear, rang in his skull, and his brothers, he was sure, with all the freedoms and confidence of a liberty bell, yet held the weight of the judging power only the scales of Justice that resided in the purest of Justice soles could hold. So heavy were those words with magic, he felt his own sins crawl down his spine. He was sure the only reason he wasn’t trying to repent was because there was a solid wall between ‘them’ and the brothers that only allowed the verbal echo of the words strength to leak through. That wall acted as a filter, and just barley. 

“Shit…” Red muttered as he subconsciously took a step back towered his brother, who’s grip on the summoned bone club could have cracked steel. No way was he goanna stay here with some God damn mage! Fuck that shit! The tinny Dictator could finish putting shit away on his own.

Red grabbed his brother, despite his protest (and knowing full well he would face his brother’s wrath later) and forced him through a ‘shortcut’ back to the safety the damn manor house.

Maybe being in the fucking house a while longer wasn’t so damn bad. At least he didn’t have to deal with Mages!

Fuck, he had to tell Vanilla didn’t he? Mages weren’t supposed to exist here, right?


	3. The Text

Wine paused after entering his apartment, listening to the silence of his new home, before moving to set the grocery bags down as gently as he could. There were no intruders, that much he could decern from a cursory glance, and his brother’s soul hummed happily from his new room. Clearly content in his current task, yet there was a distinct lack of two other souls in his new abode. With a warn sigh he rubbed his temple with one hand all the while the other pulled his phone from his pocket, sending a quick text message to the young wannabe Lord, Edge, inquiring their whereabouts.

With that accomplished, and his phone placed back into his pocket, he stepped away from the freshly acquired groceries and instead going in search of clues as to why the two had left as he waited for a reply.

He felt in his soul he was to damn old to play such games as hide and seek, and 20 questions with grown ass monsters. Still, this was one of the responsibility he had agreed to in order to gain their freedom from that forsaken’ asylum they called a Cabin (as if that would make it somehow brighter and less daunting) and the residence within. There was no use griping about it. The only thing he could do now was try to piece together what happened and do his best to locate the work-shy satyr and his calloused brother.

Out of habit he clasped his phalanges, clad in red driving gloves, behind his back, as he moved down the hall. The soft click of heels was heard only by him, hesitating briefly in his calculated strides to pear in on his brother who sat with his back to him, black hood pulled over his skull, no doubt listening to his headphones as he meticulously puts away his art supplies. Each sheet of paper, every canvas, colored pencil, brush and paint tube had a very precise home in his brother’s mind and he would spend hours focused souly on placing them Exactly where they needed to go.

Wine felt HOPE for his brother fill his soul but moved on, storing the warm feeling away like a treasure to be cherished, before his brother could detect he was there. After all, he was on a mission. He had trusted the two buffoons, Red and Edge, to be on their best behavior; after all, why shouldn’t he? He had been the one to intervein between them and this worlds ‘Sans’ upon their arrival, had guarded them, lectured them, trained them in this new world to what he deemed as a satisfactory state. They wanted out of that demandable house as much as he had, and for good reason. Yet today, of all days, when he and they were so close the granting them freedom once more they had fled from his home.

Wine entered his bedroom to find the toppled boxes on the floor, the lingering sent of Red and Edges defensive magic, yet no other disturbance could be seen. What the hell happened here while he was out?

He slowly stepped around the scene. His singular eye light observing the smallest of details. The crumpled bedsheets turned lounge, how and where the boxes of his belongings had fallen to the floor. Was that a scuff on the far wall?

As he made his way over to inspect the scuff in question, he walked through the remanence of a shortcut. The bitter yet tasteless almost film like residue of the Void hung in the air like an unwanted grease you simply could not wash away.

Why would Red use a shortcut, in front of his brother, of all people?

You see, there was an unspoken code for most of the skeletons who had the ability; they would never use it outright in front of people. Especially their perspective brothers as it would cause the more naïve of the set to ask questions the other typically was not ready, or willing to answer. So, what on this rotting green globe would cause ‘The Judge’ of a universe as wicked and twisted as his own, if not more… ‘Dusty’ and lacking in fineness, to run away from his humble little bedroom like Giftrot was behind him?

Curiouser and curiouser indeed.

He had made it to the far wall of the bedroom, next to his bed. Leaning forward he made to examine the scuff only to halt dead in his tracks. His eyelight dilated to a fierce pinprick and his magic instinctively rushed to the crest of his cheek bones and warmed between the vertebra of his neck. The scent was faint, as if it had settled in the short time it took him to access the room, absorbing into the materials that made the wall he and the person in the apartment next to his shared. But it was not just any scent, oh no. That would be to simple. It was the zest of magic. Potent, raw and filtered only by the natural elements in the wall, and most likely the bedroom beyond it.

His magic worked overtime as he brought in a large amount of air through his nasal cavity to identify the scents, and hopefully the magic properties of the potential ~~mate~~ threat on the other side of this wall.

Hints of ozone and lemon made their way into his senses. But he needed more information. His soul was not satisfied with such simplicity. There was more and he knew it. Even under the original magic, there was something else. He just had to get through this top layer of magic fist. He breathed in deeper only to follow the lemon zest like Alice would the white rabbit. 

Every layer of the magical signature sang sweetly to him, like a sirens call. It painted an image in his very soul; a crisp clean room of a well maintained southern home in the country side, a warm wooden floor and white walls with lace curtains fluttering in the breeze as the thunderstorm on the horizon drew near. Promising to cleans the land with fire and water, yet on the round table before the window, sat atop a lace table cloth, was a perfectly brewed cup of Chamomile tea with fresh clover honey and beside it, upon the tea cups saucer, a small wedge of lemon; all brewed and set out in anticipation of the storm that hung on the horizon.

It was a magic signature he could get lost in. It promised destruction and mayhem yet offered a warm haven to weather the storm. But what puzzled him was despite getting such a crisp look, as it were, of the magic properties that the soul he was investigating held, he was not directly interacting with them. Like a pathway leading to the soul’s core yet he was blocked by a gate he couldn’t see. It left him feeling much like a child left to window shop at a proverbial candy store. He would have to meet his neighbor and maneuver them into a close enough companionship that they would allow him more than a cursory look at their soul.

Despite this small bump in the path, his instincts buzzed at the prospects of a challenge. Particularly one with so much destructive power laying in wait. His soul thumped against his ribs at the possible prospect of a potential equal that was not his alternate self in some way or another. If that were the case, perhaps his lineage would not die out with his brother and himself.

He was rather rudely brought out of his distracted musings when his phone buzzed in his pocket, alerting him to a text message. With a scowl creasing his brow ridge and his teeth turned down he mentally berated himself for losing track of his original task. He was not some baby bones transitioning pubescents who had caught the scent of a monster of childbearing age for the first time! He was a grown ass monster! A respected Captain for well over 13 year! He was cruel and calculating with a goal in mind! He could not allow himself to be distracted by such trivial things as a potential mate, with the likelihood if producing an heir, when things were so uncertain at current.

The anger he felt at himself was nothing compared to the anger he felt at the text he received from Edge. It appeared Edge and Red were currently in a standoff on weather or not to tell ‘Sans’ that a possible mage resided next door.

A growl rumbled through him as he fought to keep the phone from shattering, and his temper under control. If that soul truly was a Mage (even if it was untapped and unbridled) then it may be a key peace to the puzzle, even a potential ally for them (amongst other things); but if the Sans from the Alpha Universe found out he would not think twice before removing it from existence! If that peace of filth caught wind about the soul next door he would obliterate it, claiming their soul was corrupt after assuming it was a threat. He would not even weigh the soul on The Scale, he would shatter it, then act as though he had taken the higher ground!

The hypocrite!

Worse yet, if they told that two face leach, then everything he has worked for over the past 3 Years, 1 Month, 2 days, 6 hours, 13 minutes, and 53 seconds would be a waste! He could not afford that kind of set back!

His brother could not afford that kind of setback!!

Before he knew it, his magic had gathered in his left socket and he was gone.

Papyrus, or rather, Little Pup, turned his head to look at the wall that was shared by his brother, before looking down at the text message he had received from his beloved sibling informing him that he would be back and that their were groceries to put away on the counter. That wasn’t like his brother. He never left something half finished unless an emergency arose.

The question was, what was it this time?


	4. Lemon flora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out the note at the end of the chapter when you are done reading! Thanks!

How long had she been waiting for a response now?

5 minutes?

10 minutes?6

Was time still a thing?

Better yet, why the hell was she still standing there like a dumb ass doing nothing?

“Hello?” she asked with a tentative wrap of her knuckles on the wall.

Nothing. Absa-fucking-lutly nothing. No more sound, not even a squeak of a floor board. There was no way they just…disappeared, right? No fucking way. So, what were they doing? Standing like statues over there, holding their damn breath hoping she would just, what, magically go away?

Bitches, she lived here first!

Gods above and bellow she was to tired for this… and a bit temperamental. Ok, a lot temperamental, particularly lately. In truth she wasn’t really sure what was coming over her. Her temper hadn’t been this out of control since… puberty maybe...or maybe since she was a kid. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t really gotten mad over things that just didn’t sit right with her the was she had recently since….

No! That wasn’t the point!

Wait, was that movement? Was someone there? These ass clowns where just fucking with her weren’t they? She strained to hear anything further, placing her ear against the wall in hopes she would catch something to prove to herself she wasn’t losing her damn mind but there was nothing. Not even a whisper on a non existent breeze.

She wanted to be mad over it because they were probably messing with her, but in truth she admitted that she just didn’t have the energy for this. Her head thumped lamely against the wall as regret for her actions began to weigh on her heart. But, like, it was totally and idle threat (sure, in the moment she meant it, but people say dumb things when they are tired and mad, so fuckin’ what?). It isn’t like she was really goanna bet some random person up (was she?). Sure, she might slap the shit out of MegaMouth but come on!!! That was totally uncalled for on his end!

Alright, so…maybe slapping the shit out of him (her? She-he? He-she? Who knew…)for being a douche was a bit much on Her end of things too….

Maaaan…she didn’t want her new neighbors to think they needed to be scared of her…she probably wouldn’t really slap the shit out of the louder one….maybe (?)….she wasn’t sure…

Why was she so conflicted over this? Fuck her life, man.

It just, ugh, it didn’t sit right with her that someone was being degraded for simply laughing. Seriously, if they acted like that because the other was laughing what else were they doing if Mr. McFuckMe actually crossed a legit (See: made up by the self-righteous rectum she dubbed MegaMouth) line? But she could not go around making judgments about people based on a conversation through a damn wall! That was asinine and ignorant. There was no true justice in that, even if she felt that in her very being it was right at the time. Even now she felt she had made the correct judgment but her logical side said she needed more information before she could do that.

So here she was, having an internally monologed exponential crisis over bullshit, waiting like a fuck head after knocking on the wall, hoping to show she meant no harm somehow. She was sorry for being a quick-tempered dick… she means duck! She was totally a duck this time around, angry little jack asses….

With a grown she allowed her head to thump against the wall a few more times as she took a deep breath.

“Look, I...I’m sorry, ok? It really isn’t ok to say stuff like that to someone just because they were laughing at something I said. Just have a bit more respect and understanding towered one another, yah? Kindness never killed anyone ya’ know.”

Silence would be louder than what she heard as a response.

“Cthulhu, I am probably just talking to a fucking wall right now! Christ on a cracker! I need a drink. Fuck!”

Little Pup had been walking out of his room, headphones around his neck, to put the groceries away when he heard it. Thumping on the far wall of his brothers’ bedroom. His shoes didn’t make a sound on the floor as he moved to his brothers’ doorway. His lidded eye lights saw the scene in the room play out in the vivid splashes of cartoon like magic remnants: or that’s how anyone else would describe the vision before him if they could see the oddities that he saw, but for him it was a natural part of his daily life.

Red, uneven streaks could be seen ‘stumbling’ around by the far wall, leaving a distinct impression of the monster it belonged to against it, before it flittered back to the area right before the door that held a sturdy bracing of maroon rebar before both disappeared, leaving behind the drip of void, like ink on the floor that had leaked out as they had passed through. Splashes of a yellow, that could only be described as lemon like in shade bleed through the wall, blooming like flora in spots. His brothers’ burgundy plumed by the wall, concentrated by one of the floral yellow blooms now magically etched into the wall, slowly settling down in a mist on the floor, and there, in the center, was the distinct black ink like drip of the void once again.

Gentle thumping brought his attention back to the wall once more before a feminine sounding voice began to talk. The magic remnant still left in the voice made it so he could see as the words scrawled themselves and their timed and apologetic intent across the wall in an elegant spiraled fount that reminded him of the historical text found on parchment from the medieval age of humans (he would have to find the name of it so he could use it again, it was quite lovely), as the wall filtered out the intent and magic of the persons words.

“Look, I...I’m sorry, ok? It really isn’t ok to say stuff like that to someone just because they were laughing at something I said. Just have a bit more respect and understanding towered one another, yah? Kindness never killed anyone ya’ know.”

He tipped his skull to the side, watching the words scrawl themselves across the wall then fade before more appeared.

“Cthulhu, I am probably just talking to a fucking wall right now! Christ on a cracker! I need a drink. Fuck”

He listened, and felt, as the person on the other side of the wall stormed away in exasperation to, apparently, get something to drink. Maybe they where going to get wine, much like his brother did when his soul fumed much the same way.

After a moment Little Pup turned, gently closing the door behind him, his socked feet shuffled along the hall as he chewed on his hoodie string as he realizing he was hungry. He could only hope his brother had gotten him something quick to eat. After all, he couldn’t cook yet, and the flames of the human stoves scared him. No matter what, they were always angry, always wanting to destroy what they were given.

What didn’t scare him was that beautiful fount and it’s lemon colored flora patterned magic that accompanied it. Maybe, if he was quick at putting the groceries away and finding a quick snack, he could replicate it on paper. Yah, that sounded like a good idea…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your wondering what kind of Fount Little Pup saw on the wall, copy what Oriana said and put it in Microsoft word, enlarge it to 18 (That's key! If you don't it won't have the same effect when smaller) and change it to 'Parchment'. 
> 
> If you have a few seconds, I would love to know what you guys think so far!


	5. New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some life tips for you lovelies!!   
> First! if you cook anything with grease or oil remember to clean your drip catch on your stove when you are done and it had cooled! if you don't there is a high probability that you will meet your neighbors as you stand on your front lawn waiting for the fire department the next time you cook.  
> Second! If there is ever a grease or electrical fire in your home, please please PLEASE do not use water to try to put it out if a fire extinguisher is not available!  
> Third! if a fire extinguisher is not available try to contain the flame without putting yourself in danger! try covering it with a pan to smother it or a SHIT TON of flower (be careful with the flower! if you don't have enough to douse the fire completely in one quick go you will only fule it!)  
> and lastly, always remain calm! if you panic it will only make the situation worse! A calm head always prevails!

Edge stared his brother down as he blocked the doorway leading out of Red's slovenly hovel. If he was being honest with himself his brother's room was kept in far better shape now than it was in the past, but empty booze bottles still spilling out from an overfilled trash can next to his brother's desk. Poorly hidden pornography magazines and packs of half-finished cigarillos (All nasty habits he has repeatedly asked (see; told) his brother to stop to no avail) were scattered around the room. Edge was simply glad there was no, ahem, ‘red stains' in clear view…though there was a damn sock on the ground, in the same spot it has been, right next to a laundry bin, for the past 3 years.

Yet, at that moment, despite the mess (and that damn sock), he watched as his brother paced the floor in a near rage at the idea of not reporting the magic-user they had encountered at Wine’s new home. He had gotten his brother to remain in the room by threatening him as he used to (despite it making him sick in his soul to do so) but this was not something they could simply just do without consulting his superior.

This affected more than himself and his brother in ways he wasn’t sure his brother understood. Hell, it affected them in ways even he couldn’t understand, but he wanted to. After all, with the addition of a magic-user in this world, there was a new puzzle piece to the preverbal puzzle box at hand and that thrilled him even if the magic had been directed at him.

Now, that magic was a feeling he would never forget, nor was it one he wanted to have the misfortune of experiencing again. He knew the magic had been muffled but that didn’t stop every violent action, ill-tempered outburst, display of power, and spec of dust on his hands to resurface to the top of his soul, crawling across it like a vial slime. Sickly and ill, it bathed his soul in every regrettable action he ever took to keep his family and those far too weak to defend themselves, safe. Yet, for the first time ever (though he would be damned to admit it), he was glad for this ability of his brothers' to ‘shortcut' to a different location in a split second. Without it, he felt his soul would have eaten away at itself with loathe under the influence of that new magic. Not matter how muted the magic was…

This, however, was where his inner musings on the incident abruptly stopped, as Wine stepped smoothly into the room, seemingly from thin air. Was that what it had looked like when he and his brother had come through? Though, he supposed they were far less dignified as his brother had yanked him through that awful sticky sensation and straight onto the floor in his panic.

Wine’s cool, collected gaze landed on the now stilled Red before glancing at Edge, giving him a curt nod. As typical his hands were behind his back as he stood at ease. His white dress shirt was tucked neatly beneath a black leather waistcoat that much resembled a motorcycle jacket designed not to have sleeves. The red scarf he once wore was now absent, in its place was a medium width tie, fit neatly beneath the shirts crisp collar and down his front to disappear beneath the waistcoat, pinned in place by a golden delta rune lapel pin. His black slacks were held up by a red Italian leather belt with a simple golden buckle. His feet clad in black Christian Louboutin ADOX boots, adding an extra 2 ½ inches to his 5-foot 3-inch height.

Everything about Wine demanded respect. From the look in his red eye light, to his rigid posture and his sturdy stance, even the way he seemed to look down on you, judging every little aspect about you, assessing you, your value to him; yet he was always calm, precise, kind even when it suited him, and worse yet his brother looked up to him. Practically worshiped the shit on this wannabe's overpriced shoes, and Red hatted it.

Red hated this pompous jackass and every fuckin' thing about h'm . He looked like an overpaid clown if you asked Red; in his prissy ass high heels, making him taller than most of the other ‘Sans'. Not to mention the way he looked down his damn nasal ridge at Red; it was enough to send a saint into a fit of rage. Why the fuck did Boss feel the need to ‘report’ to this prick? Ah, that’s right, the fuck face was once head of the Royal Guard where he came from so his little bro felt it was only natural to learn from him while he was here so that he could move up the ranks when they got back. Hah! Like he was gonna let that fuckin’ happen! His bro was under the sun and the stars now without a chance of a reset, at least, not because of some snot-nosed kid anyways.

Though….with the mental state of the Vanilla bastard, who knew how long they had before he ripped the fabric of time and space to shreds. He couldn’t blame him much, whatever he did to stop the reset had also taken his bro, leadin’ him to mess with shit no one was qualified for no matter how many theories on quantum physics, paradoxical mathematics, and anything else that may be even remotely relevant to the topic, one studied.

But he Could blame him for trying to kill his bro and himself when they first got here, all because they had LV and EXP (like any of the others in this da'm asylum don’t, the hypocritical fucks)...and he could blame the dickless Wine-o prick for stepping in like a big fuckin' hero no one fuckin’ wanted!

But now, oh~ho~ho….

Now they had a mage on their hands! An Angle forsaken powerful one too if today was any indication. Not only were they powerful but clearly at the whimsy of their soul as it was evident to Red, a true Judge (unlike Wine-o McDickless over there) they had no damn clue how to use their souls' magical trait, but they lived right next to that self-righteous prick! Fuck, he doubted they even fuckin’ knew they had magic, but that was all the more reason they should send the paranoid Vanilla after them. A soul like that, with the potential to become a God damn Judge, if it wasn' already, in his not so humble opinion, needed to fuck right off to hell, but the look he was getting from the Wine-o before him said he was about to have a Very heated conversation about it.

“We should keep this information between us until we have more information.” Wine stated mater-o-faculty, getting right to the point.

“The fuck we should! Do ya' have any fuckin' Idea what it is capable of?” Red raged in response, fist-clenching at his sides, knowing full well Wine knew what a mage could do.

“I have some idea, yes.” Wine responded, fighting the urge to sigh with exosted agitation, dreading the feeling of an oncoming headache. He knew Red would put up a fight over this mage and he understood why. All he got was a top-level glance at the magic the soul held and it had so much potential for distraction that had it not been balanced out by the calm of that room he would have agreed with Red for the sake of keeping his brother safe. Yet it held just as much potential to aid them if utilized right. If they could get to the user first, before the magic and the soul is corrupted, they could train it easily enough. Next to Undyne, he was the best ‘trainer’ after all…

“Th' fuc' ya' do! If'in we had been in the same fuc'n room with that thing it would have dusted my bro!”

“I am not as weak as to have been taken down by such measly intent.” Edge lied smoothly.

“Measly intent?” Red Pareted incredulously, looking at his brother as if he had gained a head.

“If you tell our apathetic alternate then all your work to get out of this … ‘house’ will be for not.” Wine cut in instead, snapping Reds attention back on him with a furry in his sockets that caused his red light to blaze slightly.

Wine had hit a sore spot it seems. Not like it was a surprise to him, considering he had done so deliberately.

“Fuck tha’! I’d rath’a deal with the devil I know.” Red countered.

“A devil that could lose his grip on reality and wipe out everyone in this house on a passing laps of sanity? How many close calls have we already had with the ‘Alpha timeline’ Sans? ”

Red remained silent at that moment, staring his alternate down. He was loath to admit it but the vanilla bastard was the strongest of the alternates thus far. Even those who had LV and EXP couldn’t match him alone, though he would never admit it aloud.

“Besides, who is to say they even meant to hurt anyone? If my suspicions are correct, I doubt they even know they have these abilities. If that is the case, then they are …malleable.”

“Wine has a valid point, Sans. I do not think that person truly meant me harm, as they just as easily could have come over to Wine’s apartment instead of giving a verbal threat through the wall. You said yourself that Mages are not supposed to exist here according to the information the other Sans has given you. If that was the case then this person could be of use to us.”

Now that little tidbit was news to Wine….

Red hatted it! He knew what these two were getting at and he fucking hated it! He could see why his brother was naive to what a Mage could do, after all, he hadn’t dealt with one before, but Wine damn well knew better!

Though any ability to discuss the topic further was lost in the sudden explosion that shook the very foundation of the ‘Cabin'. Wine and Red shared a look, promising to pick up the conversation again later. Right now, they had to figure out what the hell Vanilla had done this time.

Nary a second later both Red and Wine were in the common room as Edge quickly followed by leaping over the second story banister to join them in their defensive stance before the destruction that once lead to the basement. To the side the youngest and far too naïve of the Sans, Blueberry, dusted the debris from the shoulders of his orange hoodie-clad brother's shoulders, all the while asking if he was alright.

From the kitchen, wiping his hands down his apron hastily, emerged the disproportionate and distorted frame of one accurately named Crookshanks (nicknamed Crooks), teeth wired with braces and dusty white eye lights magnified from behind wireframe spectacles taped to his face. Soon after his disproportionately large brother (at least compared to the other Sans) Axle emerged in a plum of sparks and rust-colored dust, a large ax, rusted in appearance, gripped tightly in his hand as he stood before his brother with a menacing scowl.

“What is going on down there?” snapped a scratchy voice from the 3rd floor as damn near spitting image of Reds brother, save for the 2 cracks that ran over his right eye socket instead of his left and his taller frame, emerged from his room, dressed in a crisp black suit with a blood-red tie, eye lights so small they couldn’t be seen from that distance peered down at the destruction bellow. A scowl set on his large saw-like teeth.

His respective Sans, otherwise known as Sal, dressed in much the same way, stepped up beside him to lean on the railing casually as he cast a rather disinterested smile down onto the scene bellow; his left k9 glinting gold in the light.

“Duno, Dom. Looks like a bit ‘o remodlin’ ta’ me’.” Sal jokes smoothly.

“Maybe they are just having a Smashing good time” Snickered another voice, before a rounded skull with blue lights and a wide friendly grin peaked over the side of the railing. His ensemble, though hard to see clearly through the railings, consists of black slacks held up by black suspenders over a cobalt blue button-down shirt. The untied white bow tie that hung loosely around his neck would have added a splash of class with his black-gloved hands if he had it tied properly. His black and white wing-tipped shoes shifted on the cobalt bone he summoned so he could clearly see the destruction bellow above the railing that was a good 1/3 taller than himself.

The joke caused the far larger of the two Sans to laugh, leaning further onto the railing as he did so, causing Dom to groan in frustration, turning angry sockets to the newcomer.

“Now brother, this is not the time to make such jokes!” chided a crisp and far to cheery voice, booming through the hall as the smiling skull and white lights of an unmarked Papyrus appeared behind his respective Sans. His Papaya colored shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and held them out of the way by sleeve bands, a crisp black vest covered his chest and a smart white tight around his neck was pinned in place by a small white bone pin. Pinstriped slacks lead to white and black wing-tipped shoes that matched his brothers.

“Heh, sorry Raul, Couldn’t help my shelf.” His brother responded with the largest of cheeky grins.

“Of course bro-…ACE!!” Raul, or ‘ Roulette’, depending on who you asked, screeched upon realization of his brother's pun.

Wine was aware of other alternates joining them, far quieter than the 4 Mafia members did. The soft flap of wings, the squeak of sneakers, the unmistakable scent of high altitude Ozone, and the clack of claws on debris-covered tile. Where the others were was none of Wines' concern at the moment. But the ones that did show, he could work with, or so he hopped as a glee filled black-clad skeleton came trotting out of the dust and rubble that was once the basement door as if he was arriving at a party just for him.

A rounded skull, wide innocent blue eyes, brightened further by the tell tail red ‘bags' of high LV, a large gouge across his left socket, a warm and welcoming smile despite the destruction that was around him. A long blue scarf tied around his neck to flare into a large bow before trailing behind him briefly reminded Wine of his own red one tuck away nicely at home.

The young Sans before them dawned a black battle body with pointed shoulder pauldrons, lined with gold; the all too familiar golden Deltarune blazoned upon his chest. His spine was scandalously exposed, as were the top of his hip bones before being covered in boyish black shorts with a golden belt and a skull for a buckle.

Though they were a thicker material, Wine could only call the things covering this young ‘Sans' legs as thigh high stockings, with the blue boots he wore ending at his knees. Gauntlets in a matching shade covered the young Monsters' hands and radius/ulnar.

So uncanny in his appearance to Blue and his nieve boyhood, despite the slight difference in clothing style and lack of a scar on Blue's part, that the evidence of his lust for LV and EXP only caused greater trepidation for the defensive group.

Behind this new Sans, looming from the shadows was a singular orange eye light.

It appeared Wine would not be going home tonight, or even for a few days. He truly hoped his brother would be able to find a way to fend for himself while he was away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to know what you guys and gals think!


	6. A vote

Alright ladies and gentlemen, I have made a grave mistake and writen no less than 4 difrent versions of chapter 6, all of which are completely different and will feed information to you guys at a different pace than the other. Problem is, I can't decide which one to choose. So I would love it if you guys would take a vote on these seamingly veuge words to help decide both the pace and direction of this story.  
Ready?  
Your options are......

A. Bathtub 

B. Park bench 

C. Hotdogs 

D. Mittens


	7. Realized Responsibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After you all voted and gave such wonderful feedback on said voting options, I now present to you.....A. Bathtub

Sockets widened as Little Pup stilled at the rush of lemon flora through his room, crashing against himself and it is walls in a tidal wave of emotion. Tears began to drip from his socket as he curled in upon himself in an attempt to block out the soul that screamed out to him for help.

It was too much…

_ The muffled sound of shattering glass. _

_ The unnatural ring of a soul’s bell, vibrating and off tune, calling for liberty that it can no longer grasp. _

_ The tipping of a soul’s core, swaying it fights to keep the balance it once knew, so that it may uphold justice it can no longer see. _

_ The ringing of pain from the thrice dammed container of a soul to potent for it, as the soul reverberates from within. _

_ Burgundy mixed with red as hands and knees collided with shard covered tile. Speckled by golden flecks of vibrant yellow as bile and excess magic is violently expelled before the containers collapse. _

_ The creaked cry of strained metals as they fight to keep their structural integrity from within with the aid of red mittens. _

_ Eyes that light with vision so bright it is blinding, cried without feeling as whimpers sounded on the distant shore. _

These things he could no longer stand. He could not stand by and let them suffer. It hurt him to do so.

It was too much…

The door to the apartment next to theirs was locked, much to Little Pups’ chagrin as the whimpers of a dog could be heard on the other side. But the dog was not the source of the pain.

 _Gasped sobs attempted by lungs that are filled with lightning and ozone rather than oxygen_.

The rattling of a doorknob….

_ The reached feel of humanities ilk clinging to blessed bones…. _

Someone pounding on a door….

_ … nails rake against unwelcomed mortal confinement… _

The thump of something solid hitting metal and wood….

…the clatter of a door being busted off its hinges…

…the splinters of metal and wood like a _welcomed melody of **destruction**_ ….

Tooth ground against tooth, creating the familure calming taste of **_dust_** ….

…of **_death_** …

All things are welcomed home in death, no matter their trial. To sit at the lady’s table before her hart and feast. To lay in beds suited for the gods yet granted to mortal souls once freed from their physical form. Granted the freedom to roam the gardens and halls of Niflhiem, to learn the knowledge of the All Father, and be cared for as they had not been in life.

Allowed peace their souls need.

All souls must be weighed by Thee who holds the scale so that they too may know the suffering they have inflicted.

A lesson supper imposed upon the soul, so to speak, so that it may never be forgotten, no matter the life.

All souls once cleansed from their former lives start new ones with the death of a star.

Accept Thee who holds **The Scales** …

Thee whos’ retainers had decided, with the persuasion of HE who calculates, HE who manipulates, and HE who tries to lead astray, to thread themselves into the tapestries of their perspective domains with the dyeing of the last star…

Losing their way home with its last dyeing breath…

Leaving Thee in its hollowed eco, nary even a tenth of a shadow of Thees’ former glory, for with them they took gifts borrowed and ripped them from the very soul that had granted them…

Mortality is thickal.

It is so fleeting. Much like the blink of an eye, a mortal form can parish, leaving its soul to wander.

Time is a construct made by those who cannot perceive beyond the confines of their physical forms. Yet it is off putting when one is harboring so much humanity that time stills with a single touch…

Cool skeletal hands cradled scolding flesh decorated by ruby rivets of blood; tattered and shredded in an attempt of freedom.

The call of a chime, not heard in an uncountable number of millennia, drawing eyelids open to settle eyes so vibrant they are nearly blind to gaze on the soul before her. The chime it holds is the chime of one she called friend long ago, so long it had been forgotten. The chime is one she gave so many cycles ago, the shard of her soul, a piece of **The Scale**.

Each world had a set of two, a yin and yang, kindness and indifference, perseverance, and sloth. One to accept and guide, the other to cast judgment and punish. Made by HE who manipulates, to aid Thee who was overwhelmed due to the Creators of Life as they rebel against the balance that had to be upheld with the necessity of death.

A beloved retainer, lost to the fabric of the world he had been sent to judge, had cast aside much of the shard of The Scale she had split between him and his brother. Leaving behind the faintest of bell like sounds to tinkle back at her when her soul called to his for aid.

How much of him was shattered and rearranged in the transfer? Or was it rearranged in the gaining of his humanity?

The world seemed as if it was soundless, dulled, like the bottom of the ocean, as the retainer before her scooped her into his arms, stepping over the scattered parts of the busted door…

The doors time could be re-wound, it was a simple object, she could fix the damage, she was sure…

As she did, she wondered if time could be rewound on the soul of the retainer that carried her now through halls she couldn’t see, ignoring the door as it was restored to its once locked glory by the very being in his unknowing arms, his soul focus to care for the one who had commissioned him, as he had been mad to do.

Had she been too hard on them?

Placed too much pressure on the young souls? Asked to much of the little Harold’s? They had all seemed so well adapted to the task given. Was that not the way things were? To be thrown into the task you had been created for with nary a though from your creator. That had been how it had been when she had been created for ‘Mother’.

It was not as if she had a choice…they had a balance to uphold…yet it had been doing fine without them…

Mayhap it was the mortality that clung to her soul through the guise of human flesh that has made her think such odd thoughts. The oddity of being able to feel ones very being dyeing around them as their soul pulses onward certainly gave one a different view on existence.

The more her soul thumped in protest to its confines, the more it tried to branch outward from its mortal brace the more she realized how wrong she was in thinking that the universes had been fine without them. She could only hear the faint call of the one she was in, its sorrow, its struggle, its overburdened existence, crying out in pain as it tried so desperately not to die…so desperately it had decided to loop itself and all the souls within back to the day her soul had first taken refuge in the physical brace of humanity to heal.

It had looped itself enough times to a lot her time to heal, so gain back her strength.

Yellow tears leaked from blinded eyes, as the universe around her cried out. She had been gone for far too long, placed too much responsibility on ones so young. Now it was up to her to place judgment one the very ones she had helped design. She was not their mother but the knowledge that she had failed them as their guardian was as much of a shock as she fridge water the rained down on her from the showerhead above.

Who was she to **Judge** , when she had clearly _failed_ …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peaks out from behind continently placed curtain waiting for feedback*


	8. Tea Stains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Warning****  
> In this chapter, there are mentions of manipulation, child abuse, physical, mental, and sexual. I am aware this can be triggering to some so please read on with caution.

Before her, in a simple white teacup with a golden lip, held an aromatic golden infusion of water and herbs know as Chamomile Tea. The sweet scent of honey made it alluring to most, as the wedge of lemon sat on the side of the cup's saucer, an innocent and unassuming decoration for many. Yet was secretly her favorite part. Through the fragrant steam, offset from the saucer to the left was a small white cream container, waiting for her to add just a splash so that she would finish the calming concoction that many times had soothed her ‘tantrums’ in youth.

Hands clenched one another as they lay delicately in her lap, eyes studying the all too familiar crocheted table cloth beneath the tea set. It was the same as it was in her youth. As was the grandfather clock that sat ticking against the left wall, the lace curtains that fluttered in the breeze from the storm the raged outside, the white walls and aged red Victorian rug that lay beneath her as some of the only colors in the room.

This was the same sitting room this vessel had _grown up_ in over, and over, and over, and over again. The same tall windows, same large wrap around porch that held chimes that were eerily silent despite the violent wind outside. Even the ancient willow that danced with the rain and wind, bending with it instead of snaping as most trees would do.

Even as the storm raged on outside the southern home, it was as pretty as a picture…on the outside.

How many lifetimes had she been forced into this same exact seat, to look out upon the lawn and drink this herbal blend in an attempt to calm her of her ‘fits’? How many times had she been told she had no right to ‘say something like that’… ‘don’t be so judgmental’…?

“What would a child know?”

“You don’t have any right to judge him!”

“Who do you think you are?”

“You walk around here like you’re some kind of God!”

She was not a God as they knew God to be. She was a deity, one of many who shared the responsibilities of looking after humanity and monsters alike. Certainly, she was associated with death but that was not her duty. Her duty was to weigh the sins of the soul and cast judgment upon them. For she **_was_** The Scale all souls are weighed upon.

That being said, it was a weird sensation, to be a deity yet to die like a mortal. It was no longer a wonder to her why mortals didn’t like to die. For it was unpleasant, to say the least. Not to mention the various ways one could die…

Over, and over again, she died endlessly, until she had started to lose HoPe. She had died so many time she had grown numb to the point that she began to gain a twisted sense of curiosity(as most gods and deities often did when growing numb to humanity’s whose in their immortality), going so far in it as to delay what judgment she could in her fractured state to see if perhaps it would change things.

It did, but not in a good way.

It seemed as if the souls of the ones this vessel called _parents_ held the memories of their past lives, and how she had turned them over to the authorities on numerous occasions, or occasionally delivering the Judgment and overseeing its Justice herself with tinny mortal hands when the mortal system failed or fell short, as it often did.

It didn’t matter if she was in her parent's care or the care of the state, all of them would fail. All of them would be Judged by her, and even if they, as mortals, could not fathom having lived past lives, their souls remembered, and in their spite, soon turned true accidents into staged ones.

Soon Justice became ‘punished’, and cries for Liberty were seen as ‘fits’ or ‘rebelling’. It took some time, but eventually, she found the devil she knew more preferable than the devil she didn’t. An with the devil she knew the tea was used more often, accompanied by pharmaceuticals as they had taught her what it meant to be a ‘little **_lady_** ’, a ‘young **_lady_** ’, or the ever ‘honorable’, ‘ ** _Lady of the evening’_** when she had tried to speak out of their wrongdoings.

A **_lady_** kept her “God Damn mouth shut and her legs open”, or there was **_Hel_** to pay…

..and pay she did. Who would have thought mortal souls that could remember their Judgment would lash out against the one who Judged them so Thoroughly instead of taking responsibility for their own actions? She could give them credit though; they were at least colorful in their delivery of her vessel's demise.

Sometimes she would ‘accidentally’ drown in the tub or the creek behind the house. Others, too much cold medicine. One time, she had been ‘missing’, but rather they had locked her in the cellar, then forgot her in their drug-filled euphoria to starve.

‘Child meets tragic fate after running Infront of a car’

‘5-year-old girl found dead after falling from a tree’

‘Mother left to grieve alone when her 15-month-old dies of SIDS’

‘7-year-old dies from internal injuries after falling off a trampoline’

‘2-year-old girl dies after mistaking cleaning chemicals for Kool-Aid’

After enough cycles of dying, of being a ‘little _Lady_ of the evening’, even a deity of justice and liberty learns to keep their damn mouth shut so they can live longer. In fact, it had not been until this cycle with the aid of someone she was sure was an imaginary friend, did she finally make it to adulthood.

If it had not been for her bright and cheery imaginary friend, with his vibrant red scarf and silly red mittens, she probably would have died young this cycle as well, even with the aid of the drugs mixed into her tea to keep her souls' instincts subdued.

How many cycles had it been since she had forgotten what she was and turned to the very same tea that sat before her to help ease the passing of time? To numb the cry of the universe. To simply go back to sleep…

After all, what could a broken scale do? What right did she have to Judge when she herself was so weak after living the life of a mortal? Succumbing to its ups and downs as many she had judged had done?

She was nothing but a con artist.

A false deity.

A hypocrite.

A sham.

So much so even her own retainers had turned their backs on her. Not that she could blame them for doing so.

She had failed them in their botched creation by a God dedicated to Science. Failed them in ending their suffering. Failed them when giving them divinity, and now, she would fail to judge them as the universe now asked her too, for it was not their fault that she had failed to do the one thing she was created to do…

Her hand moved to reach for the cream. The cream always made the other additives easier to bear as it covered them up more than the infusion and honey did alone. Almost robotically she began stirring the mixture before moving to take the cup.

How could she Judge properly when she was partial to their plights?

Who was she to Judge when she had committed atrocities herself?

The teacup was in her hand, half-raised to her lips when the thought came to her rather peacefully.

Perhaps it would be better if she fell back to sleep…

A single chime rang out from the porch. Happy and cheerfully, yet resonating with worry.

A red mitten lay firmly on her shoulder, effectively stopping the teacup from touching her lips. Swiftly she turned to find bright white eye lights set in the eye sockets of a skull a bit too long and angular to be fully anatomically correct for a human being. His teeth a bit too long to be natural for a human yet set in a bright smile that could match the warmth of the sun on a summer day.

She felt tears leak from her eyes as she launched from the chair, teacup and its contents left to fall to the table, soundless and forgotten, arms thrown around his cervical spine, latching onto the shining ray of HoPe that had held her hand through this lifetimes adolescents.

“Papyrus!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!   
> I also ask your patience for the next few weeks as I am working on my final project for a college class that is turning out to be harder than I thought it would be and is taking up more of my time than I thought. I will say that I sort of anticipated this and have future chapters mapped out and are currently in the refining stage so I am hoping to still be able to deliver at least one chapter of decent size (see 700 + words) a week though it all depends on if I can dedicate time to refining/editing around my schedule. After all, my main goal is to give you something worth reading, but I also do not want to make you wait forever either so I will do my best to keep updating regularly!
> 
> Also! Shout out to all you lovely who took the time to talk with me! Oddly enough you help me create, whether it be for school, work, or this fiction; those seemingly meaningless conversations help get me out of my everyday head space enough to come back at my projects with a slightly different view, so thank you so much!!!
> 
> As always, please enjoy!


	9. Spaghetti

Her face buried itself into Papyrus’ signature red scarf as she forced his body to bend forward to accommodate her hug, creasing the fine dress shirt he had on at the waistline. How could she have mistaken him for an imaginary friend? Had the drugs muddled her mind so much that she had mistaken a beloved retainer for a figment of her imaginings?

“Hello, My Tinny Goddess! I Am Glad To Hear You Have Not Forgotten Me! Though Who Could Forget I, The Greatest Of Guardian Spirits!!!” he boasted quite proudly, keeping his tone slightly subdued so gauge her reaction, playing the part she had created for him in her youth well. His arms wrapping around her in a warm embrace, causing her attention to drift to the white shirt he had on.

Huh…that was new.

She remembered, back when he wore, as he called it, a ‘battle body' and bright blue booty shorts. Or better yet, her personal favorite, the ‘jog boy' outfit with hearts on the shoulder pauldrons. That was the best one. Though it seems as she had matured, so too had he, in style at least if his shirt and blue jeans with a red belt were anything to go by. As she looked him over he took the moment she had leaned away from their shared embrace to assess his awesome sense of style to stepping back himself and bending over after taking her by the shoulders.

“I HAVE A SPLENDID IDEA!! HOW ABOUT WE HAVE FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI AS WE USED TOO? THOUGH, PERHAPS WITHOUT THE NOT SO EDIBUL PARTS OF OUR USIAL FEAST. HOW DOES THAT SOUND, TINNY GODDESS? WILL YOU JOIN ME?” he continued with his usual bolster, seeing as she didn’t flinch at his previous words. Gaining excitement as he spoke, for it had been such a long time since last he had been able to see her this way.

With a watery giggle, she wiped the tears from her eyes with a nod of her head. Ever since he had appeared in her life he had called her that. His ‘tinny goddess', and as a child she had laughed and thought it a great game her imaginary friend had created to make her feel important in a life where she was just an object to be used. But now….

“Of course, Papyrus! How could I turn down one of my first Retainers?”

The energy-filled skeleton stilled, looking her directly in the eye, white eye lights expanding before winking out of existence altogether.

“You…you remember?” he asked hesitantly, usually bold voice going quiet and soft with uncertainty.

She hummed slightly in the affirmative. “I am not all that I once was, but I remember bits and pieces. One of those pieces being that smile of yours. It was always so much larger than you were…” she hesitated a moment, taking a moment as the memory began to come back to her, “…It can light up a place where even light can’t shine.” She recalled with a mixture of happy bitterness, her eyes softening as the face before her changed to that of the memory of a much smaller, far younger Papyrus beaming up at her, bare-boned, in the dark of the Void in between.

His soul half-formed and tempered by the very Void HE had discarded _them_ in, beamed up at her with tears of joy in his eyes as he prattled on in a jumbled mix of Hands and the language of the gods about how excited he was to meet someone new, and that she simply had to meet his brothers. 

The void was a numbing place. It was neither warm nor cold. It was an endless vastness, yet was the tightest of spaces one has ever been in. It was all and nothing. The only thing it did not contradict itself in most of the time was that it, in itself, was all-consuming darkness. No color, no light. Yet if you put life in it, the life would be light, though it would stretch no further than the life form itself.

Despite this all-consuming darkness, this vacuum, before her, leading her through the darkness that should consume his light, like a shining beckon of HoPe, Love, and Kindness; never faltering even though his soul was not whole, smiling back at her as if she was the light in this darkness, was this little amalgamate made of bone.

An amalgamate she had told HIM to destroy out of pity for its half-formed soul…

The garbled screeching the soul made as it writhed in pain despite its physical form being fully solidified…

She knew at that moment, as the little being held her hand in the darkness, that she would do anything for him and those he cared for. Even give him a piece of her soul if it meant giving him a life outside the Void…

As her gaze grew distant he took a moment he studied her face. At this moment she reminded him so much of the child, forgotten by herself, and by those around her, that he had first seen after choosing to either continue to follow his brother or head the call of his soul after stepping into that machine.

When he first saw her in her tattered dress, physically no older than 5 in human years, tears running down dirtied and bruised cheeks, blood crusting in the creases around her mouth, with only one of her enchanting green eyes looking on, the other swollen shut, dull and without sight; he knew himself and his brothers had unknowingly put their Ladyship through so much. Too much. Even now, after giving back his peace of her soul to keep hers from crumbling to dust, keeping him forever by her side, he felt as if he could never repay her.

Nothing he could do would be enough, but he knew, at this moment, at the very least he could distract her from how she felt. Her soul was too fragile without the supporting pieces his brothers held in their very soul. He just hoped they would come back to her without a fight. Perhaps not to the extent that he did, but he could hope they would not turn away and force her hand.

She truly did care for them a great deal and he feared for her, and what it would do to her if she had to cast a Final Judgment on one of his brothers. But if they did not come back to her, what else was there? He heard it as loud as she had for the brief moment her soul had reconnected with the universe. It could not move forward without her existence, or the delicate balance would be thrown off and every soul in every universe she had been charged to balance would forever be obliterated, never to be reborn. If that were to happen not even HE could calculate the wrath and fury of the gods who need the mortal souls to continue their existence. After all, you can create more life to fill a vacant universe, but you cannot make a universe.

He was sure she could do it though! Convince each of his brothers to join her again! There would be no need for dusting because she had given them so much, how could they not want to help once they remember?! Even if they didn’t at first he remembered them, and he had plenty of time, so he could nudge her in the right direction to earn their trust…right? They could not have changed that much…right?

After all, he believed in her!

The warmth of a mitten cupping her cheek and the soft brush of a fabric-covered thumb sweeping beneath her eye brought her out of her reverie to see again the skeleton before her. Fully grown with a look of worry upon his handsome features. His soul no longer screaming out in pain but humming contently in resonance with her own. So much so they almost sounded as if they were the same frequency.

“I could never truly forget you, dear sweet Papyrus.”

She had a split second to realize he was up to something before she was hoisted into the air in much the way you would expect a princess to be carried with a boisterous ‘NEY-HE-HE!’ before trotting out of the room in the arms of The Great Papyrus!

“COME, TINNY GODDESS! OUR FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI IS GETTING COLD!” was the booming comment in her ear. Next, she was aware she was being rather unceremoniously plunked in one of the kitchen chairs from her youth. It was a gaudy set, probably from the 40s. Ugly and yellow, with a weird linoleum like top to the table and metal edging to make it ‘safe'.

Though any complaints she had on the mater were lost to the musings of time as the heavenly scent of spaghetti wafted up from the plate set before her. With one look she knew how much HoPe, compassion, and kindness sweet Papyrus put into this dish sprinkled, no doubt, with the finest parmesan cheese.

When she was a youth, they had made this from grass, willow branches, rocks, and mud. But now, this was made from the soul, within the soul, for the soul, and if she thought she had been moved by the mere sight of him before she had been doubly wrong, for the sight of the spaghetti before her made her soul sing with fond memories and echoes of shared HoPe.

“Oh, Papyrus….” She started, only to pause as it occurred to her, as he took a seat across from her, looking as if he knew the question that was to come next. “…but…how?”

How indeed. Were they not within her very soul? Was he a figment of her imaginings, proving how shattered she had become? Or was there something else at play? The magic and care that was cooked into this dish were not originated from her soul. Not in its current state, and certainly not for itself.

For a moment, the skeleton before her fidgeted, looking anywhere but at her before letting out a rather amusing “SIIIIIGH”.

At the expressed sound placed in word form rather than the sound, she fought to keep the amusement off her face, laying a light hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing and will herself to stay on track with the current conversation.

“I AM NOT SURE WERE TO EVEN BEGIN.” He said after a pregnant lull in their conversation.

“How about the beginning, dear sweet Papyrus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....this is the result of me, taking a break from my assignment because my brain was fried. I can't guarantee another rapid update, but I do so hope you enjoyed this one and that it answered some questions.
> 
> On a personal note, I am an awkward meatball when trying to make friends (even online) and have officially placed my proverbial foot in my mouth. Thusly, I have banned myself from having conversations in the comments and as such shall roll myself off the table and right out the door! (name that nursery rhyme!) 
> 
> As always, your input is appreciated!  
> Please enjoy!


	10. Hiatuses Note

Hello everyone!

I greatly appreciate all of you who have followed, left kudos, and/or commented on this work, but it has come to my attention after some self-reflection that I can take this work and elevate it to a higher storytelling level and make it more enjoyable for you guys/gals while making it a bit easier to follow without losing its many layers and mysterious qualities. 

I will leave it up in the format that it is for now, but I encourage you to leave ideas or what you would like to see in the below comments. Or, if you want you can drop me a line through Twitter, Discord, or Tumbler. You will find me easily enough as my name is essentially the same, as well as my profile picture, occasionally with 92 at the end. just, please understand, I am still learning how to manage and navigate these forums so be patient with me.

In the meantime, because I use other things to work out my creative bumps until I finally figure out how I want to tackle the change up's I am having or finish perfecting a story I am particularly attached to (see this one) you will see the post and updates on other stories as this one is worked on in the background. It will not be abandoned!! The story will drive me crazy until I perfect it though. So please, just bear with me. 

That being said, I know there are a few things I am hung up on and wonder what you all think the answer would be for each character individually. 

What is the question? 

Why would each of the brothers, individually, walk away from a divine deity who saved them from the void?

Thank you all so much. I can not tell you how much your support with this story has meant to me! stay safe and take care of yourself. And again, feel free to leave ideas or what you would like to see happen below and we shall see if the muses who whisper in my head take your idea and weave it into the story through my keyboard!


End file.
